


The One That Got Away

by HolleringHawk65



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Green Lantern - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Potentially OOC, kind of, no capes or rings yet, they're teenagers here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-04-19 00:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4726133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolleringHawk65/pseuds/HolleringHawk65
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce decides to head out to California for the summer, where he meets 17 year old Hal Jordan. It's a bit of an unlikely friendship, but they make it work for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Summer After High School

**Author's Note:**

> School's starting soon for me but I'm going to try to update this as much as possible. It's not going to be super long but sometimes it takes me forever to write haha.  
> Btw, this is based off of the Katy Perry song :)

"Master Bruce, are you sure going to California is a wise choice?" Alfred was frowning as Bruce shut the trunk of his car. He had packed for a cross country road trip, complete with a convertible, and was heading to his parent's house outside of Coast City, leaving Alfred with not much to do. Of course, he wanted Bruce to get out on his own, but _this_ , for the whole summer, was very drastic difference from the typically asocial boy.

"It's going to be great, Alfred. I'll see how the west coast offices are doing, check on the house there... I'll be fine, Alfred. And you won't have to wait on me; it's a win for both of us!" He smiled as Alfred's lip trembled the slightest bit.

"You barely know how to make macaroni and cheese," he reminded him as they hugged.

Bruce laughed. "I guess it's time for me to perfect the craft then. I'll be _fine_ , Alfred."

* * *

 

Alice Cooper's "School's Out" blasted from the radio for the fifth time that day as Hal finished painting the neighbor's fence. He straightened up, took a sip of the lemonade that she had so graciously given to him, and congratulated himself on a job well done.

He didn't take note of the car that pulled up until he heard the gear shift to park and turned around. The window turned down to reveal a guy maybe around his age, his eyes covered by sunglasses. "Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you knew which way Hill Manor is?"

"It's across town," he said before going over to lean against the car and giving more detailed instructions. "What are you going there for? No one has lived there for years."

"My parents owned the place. Do you happen to know what state it's in right now?"

He shrugged. "There's this legend that it's haunted--like, mega haunted--so no one really goes there. But, if you need any help with cleaning it up, my name's Hal Jordan. Or, if you want someone to show you around Coast City, I'm pretty free for that too," he told him, eyeing the New Jersey license plates.

The guy blushed. "Thanks, um, I'm Bruce, by the way."

He smiled as he stood up. "See ya later then, Bruce."

* * *

 

When Bruce got to the Manor, he could see why people thought it was haunted. In an area filled with beach houses and modern skyscrapers, the Greek revival house stuck out like a sore thumb. It was 75% covered in ivy, and a few of the shingles looked like they were missing, but other than that, the grounds had been maintained by a company Alfred had had hired.

He was exhausted from his day of driving--exhausted from a week of driving, really--but he still brought all of his bags in before setting out to see any damage in the house. He was kind of hoping that there was something, if only to have a valid reason to call Hal.

The house was huge and it took him a half hour to inspect it. There was dust, cobwebs, complete with spiders, and other typical signs of misuse, but other than that, the house was in tip top condition. He was glad that Alfred had sent him with some basic cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, and enough food to last him at least a week, since that at least gave him something to do before going to the west coast offices of Wayne Enterprise.

It was nearing dusk when the doorbell rang, booming through the house. He opened the door to reveal Hal, freshly clean in a button down and cargo shorts, holding a brown grocery bag. It made Bruce actually feel slightly inferior in just his sweatpants and old t-shirt. 

“Hey. So I looked into who used to own this place--actually talked to my mom for once--and lo and behold you’re some really rich kid from the east coast.”

“Bruce Wayne,” he supplied. He had honestly been hoping to hold off on any gold diggers. 

“Gesundheit. So, I realized that you probably won’t even be able to call me without a butler or something, right? And I can only imagine that if you can’t call someone, you probably would burn the entire house down like it was Atlanta during Sherman's march trying to cook something decent.”

“You’re going to cook for me?” Oh.

“No, I’m going to teach you how to cook for yourself.”

“And you have nothing better to do with your Friday night?”

“Oh, I have plenty of other things I could be doing right now,” Hal said as he walked by. “But better? I dunno. Something as beautiful as you shouldn’t go up in flames.”

He could feel the instant his cheeks went red. He’s not beautiful by any means, always covering up with make up and long sleeve shirts. The thought of it all made him feel too exposed in his t-shirt.

“Hey, are you alright?”

To say that he didn’t interact with people much was understatement. Sure, he showed up at Wayne Enterprises. He made appearances at charity balls and galas and operas. But he didn’t usually have one on one time with anyone except Alfred.

All in all, this meant that _no_ , he was not alright.

“I’m going to go change. The kitchen is through there,” he finally said after a moment, pointing vaguely.

Hal watched as he disappeared to another part of the house before turning to the direction Bruce had indicated. After a few minutes, he finally found the kitchen, and starting hunting around for all of the utensils he needed.

He had just started mixing the crema together when Bruce appeared, this time in a long sleeved sweater that looked much too big for him, even slipping off of a shoulder. Hal stared for a moment, trying to process how he was looking ready for winter when it was nearing 90 degrees outside.

“You’re going to give yourself heat stroke.”

“My nervous system can’t differentiate between hot and cold,” he blurted out.

“Oh.”

Bruce picked at the edges of the sweater as he leaned against the counter, eyes flickering to what Hal was doing. “What’s on the menu?”

“Fish tacos. Have you ever had them before?”

“Maybe? Probably not though. We--Alfred and I, that is--don’t eat a lot of greasy food.”

Hal hummed. “I usually don’t either, and these aren’t that greasy in my opinion. First of all, the fish itself is lean--little to no oil--and then we bake it, not fry.” He explained this as he got his spices out of the bag. He mixed what he needed, noticing from the corner of his eye that Bruce didn’t move a muscle as he watched him. It was, in an unfamiliar way, adorable. “Let me guess: Alfred’s your butler?”

He smiled sheepishly. “He’s worked for the family for years; refused to leave me when my parents were killed.”

“They were killed?”

Bruce fell silent again. “It’s just so weird. Everyone in Gotham knows who I am, who my parents were and what happened to them. Being out here is so… _freeing_. I feel like I could start over, even pretend that they’re out there, somewhere, alive.”

Hal didn’t respond as he sprinkled the spice mixture onto the fish and put them onto a tray before setting them in the oven. “I know how you feel. My dad… he blew up in front of me. I mean, he was in a plane, and I was on the ground, but.” He shrugged. “It’d be nice to be able to pretend that he was alive and happy somewhere out there. Who knows, maybe with reincarnation, he is.”

He nodded as Hal started to prepare the tortillas. He felt bad that he had come here with the intent to teach him something, then ended up doing all of the work. It was a little late to do anything now thought--maybe he’d just clean up. Yeah. That’s a good idea.

Hal whistled as he worked, rather enjoying the audience he had found in Bruce. He was kind of like his little brother, but unlike Jim, he wasn’t hyperactive. Just, still and _stared_.

“Are you a gargoyle?” He asked while he leaned against the counter, mimicking Bruce, who only smiled at him. He reached to tug the sweater up and when his skin brushed against his, Bruce seemed to focus on his face. Hal didn’t look away from the stare, taking an opportunity to really look at Bruce.

His face was actually rather gaunt. He had high cheek bones and bags under his eyes--maybe that was from driving a lot in a short amount of time. His eyes were beautiful though--grey, maybe, but they looked almost like light purple.

"No," he affirmed after a moment.

He smiled at him in response. "Good because I'd rather not have you try to eat me later, or whatever it is that gargoyles do to humans."

Bruce looked like he was about to say something, apparently decided against it, and blushed. "The food smells really good."

"Does it? That's good." Bruce returned to tugging on his sleeves as Hal finished putting the fish tacos together.

"I'm sorry I didn't help. I probably proved all of the stereotypes in your head."

He turned to him. "Look, I don't mind, honestly. It gives me all the more reason to come back to make sure that you don't burn your house down trying."

He almost protested--he _could_ microwave something, but he saw how good the tacos looked and he was secretly (or not so secretly, he wasn't sure) basking in Hal's attention. So he kept his mouth closed on the subject.

"Hey, do you have any TV hooked up? Wanna watch a movie?"

"Maybe. Probably. I'll go check." He was glad that Hal had finally given him something to do and he disappeared into the labyrinth of halls. He found that the living room, which was thankfully one of the rooms he had cleaned, did have a working TV and the archaic ("Vintage," Hal would coo later) DVD player worked. Hal popped in a few minutes later, balancing two plates of tacos and a four pack of glass bottled cream soda that he had brought.

"Bon appetit!" he said, bumping shoulders with Bruce as he sat their dinner down on the coffee table. Bruce popped in a random movie before settling on the couch, a reasonable distance away from Hal but if they both outstretched their legs on the couch, their feet would be touching.

Twenty minutes later and into _The Aristocats_ Bruce was stuffed and curled up on the couch, even bundled into a blanket. "I need this recipe," he told Hal after his last bite. "Please."

"The next time I make it, you should take notes," Hal joked, nudging him playful.

Instinctively, Bruce leaned against him. Hal didn't even breathe for a moment, afraid to spook him but after a moment he relaxed.

Bruce kind of slid down, his head resting in Hal's lap. He had never cuddled with someone before--maybe because his parents had always seemed so distant and Alfred just wasn't the type unless Bruce was having a problem.

So when Hal ran a hand through Bruce's hair, instinctively, his eyes shut. Hal chuckled, muttered something about homes, food, and cats, then fell silent, even when the movie was over and there was no doubting that Bruce had fallen asleep.

He leaned back a little and decided that it was high time for him to get some sleep too.


	2. And Climb to the Roof

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this is super short but it will be longer in the next chapter! I promise <3

“It’s nice out here,” Hal said, laid out on the roof, cushioning his head in his hands.

Bruce hummed in agreement as he set down a pitcher of Shirley Temples and settled down, cross-legged.

It’d already been a week, one where Bruce was neglecting his duties at Wayne Enterprises in favor for hanging around with Hal. He’d promised Alfred that he would get around to it in the next week, so he would, but right now, he wanted to _pretend_ to be normal.

Bruce read quietly on his tablet as Hal looked up at the stars, allowing the younger man to locate all of his favorite constellations.

“What are you reading?” Hal asked, sitting up and staring at Bruce.

He looked up, one perfect eyebrow perfectly arched, the smallest of smiles on his face. “Nothing fun, I assure you.”

“I thought you were on vacation for a few more days?”

He shook his head before looking back down at his tablet. When Hal didn’t lay back down, he shifted over so that he could lean his head against him. “I didn’t get to do any reading when I was driving out here, so I fell behind and I haven’t quite caught up yet.”

He huffed before tugging Bruce closer ever so slightly. They sat like that for who knows how long, one looking up at the beautiful stars and the other looking down at harsh electricity.

* * *

 

Bruce had every intention of just grabbing a banana on his way out of the door so that he could get to the office bright and early…

... But when he came downstairs, Hal was at the stove, putting an omelet on a plate as Bruce walked in. “Did you ever leave last night?” It was possible, considering Hal had a key, but not likely, considering that Bruce had only been asleep for four hours.

“Nah. I haven’t gone to sleep yet, either, but I wanted you to have a nice breakfast before you went to work.” He nudged the plate towards Bruce as he poured a glass of orange juice. “Did I just sound really domestic? Because I think I did.”

Bruce laughed as he put the orange juice back into the fridge. “It’s… not really a bad thing.” Hal didn’t say anything as Bruce devoured the omelet and put the dish into the dishwasher. “Thanks, Hal, it was delicious.” He hesitated for a second before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Hal’s cheek. Worse came to worse, he could either suck it up and admit that he had read the social cues all wrong or just pass it off on Hal’s drowsiness.

Hal smiled before he leaned and kissed Bruce on the lips, trying his best not to ruffle his clothes or his hair. “Good luck today. I’ll be here when you get home.”

Bruce kissed Hal on the tip of his nose, a thing that his father used to do to his mother before he went to work. It had always seemed like a mystical source of luck, and maybe it would work for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!


	3. We Got Matching Tattoos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to let you know, there is a flash forward at the end of the chapter, in italics. Let me know if it's confusing! :)

Hal was tinkering around with the DVD player when Bruce got back. There was the smell of something burning, or having been burnt, but Hal didn’t seem concerned about it, so Bruce decided that he wasn’t going to be, either. 

When he noticed Bruce was there, he sat up, smiling. “How’d it go?”

_Terrible._ “About as well as expected.”

He clicked and shrugged before getting up. “So, I thought we could have an epic movie night, cuz I figured that you would be upset, and I found a popcorn machine but… The player is haywire, the machine burns everything, and you look really good in that suit.”

He laughed. “All I need to feel better is a dosage of y-o-u, administered with at least one kiss.”

Feeling indulgent, especially since Bruce had just attempted a _joke_ , Hal pulled him closer by the tie and kissed him. It was a proper kiss this time, not like the pecks they had exchanged earlier. Bruce placed his hands on Hal’s hips, holding him so close that he could feel all of his warmth, but despite his apparent willingness, he pulled away first. “We should go out.”

Hal raised an eyebrow. “You? Go out?”

He internally floundered before blurting out: “Am I that ugly?”

His mouth gaped. “How could you…? You’re one of the most beautiful men on this planet! I swear.” He reached down and twined a hand of his with Bruce’s. “It’s just that you’ve never wanted to before.”

“I do enjoy keeping you to myself,” Bruce admitted, “but that’s not fair to you.”

“It would be nice to show you around the Coast City night life,” he admitted. “I have to go to my house though.”

Bruce’s hands were still on Hal’s hips and, in response, he gently squeezed them. “I do suppose that wearing sweatpants to a club isn’t exactly up to protocol, is it?”

He chuckled before leaning in and kissing Bruce’s cheek. “Let’s pick out an outfit for you first, Mr. Suit and Tie.”

\---

Hal had hoped that he could hold out on Bruce meeting his family for a little while longer. They weren’t exactly ‘picture perfect’ and while he knew that Bruce was far from it -- what, with his chronic nightmares, the pale scars that adorned his wrists, and his endearing habit of holding Hal close to him when they fall asleep together, just to state a few references -- he still wanted to impress his kinda/sorta/maybe - if - they - actually - discussed - it boyfriend.

His family was not up to that task.

However, when Hal pulled into the driveway, he was relieved to find that both his mom and Jack’s cars were gone. So, at most, it was just Jim there. He let out a breath that he hadn’t known he was holding, and got out of the car.

Bruce followed suit, taking a deep breath as he stretched out. “It’s nice.”

He wanted to roll his eyes. Bruce himself was probably only being nice -- it was a one story home, pale blue, with a nice white picket fence, and a small flower garden in the front. There was a larger flower garden and a food garden behind the house but it was dark out and impossible to see them from where they stood. In short, nothing like the extravagance that Bruce was used to. It simply _couldn’t_ compare, in Hal’s mind.

The two went in using the side door, walking into the kitchen. “Anyone home?” Hal called out. He kind of hoped so, considering that the stove was on. He walked over and took the pot of _Chef Boyardee_ ’s beef ravioli off of it. “Jim!”

“Hal!” Suddenly, a _very_ energetic 14 year old barreled into him. “You’re home!”

“I was home just the other night,” he told him, “and I’m only here to get changed.” He turned to Bruce, but Jim beat him to the punch.

“Are you Hal’s boyfriend? Jack says that Hal is dating a rich playboy from the _Gotham_. You don’t look like a playboy.”

“Yeah?” Bruce scratched the back of his neck. “What do you think playboys look like?”

“Justin Bieber,” he deadpanned. “What’s your name? I’m Jim! Hal’s _favorite_ brother.” Hal rolled his eyes as he left the kitchen.

“I’m Bruce,” he said, smiling at him. “What do you like to do during the summer, Jim?”

He leaned, a mischievous glint in his eyes that he’d seen in Hal’s. “Anything that annoys Jack! I love pranking him. Hal _used_ to help me, but he’s been spending so much time with _that guy_...”

Hal came back into the kitchen then, wearing tighter and flashier clothes than he had before. Bruce shifted as he looked over at him, because _holy shit_. “Jim, are you going to be okay by yourself?” he asked as he crossed the kitchen. “Don’t leave the stove again.”

“Hal! C’mon, why can’t you stay? You’re only home when I’m asleep.”

“We could just go clubbing tomorrow,” Bruce suggested. “How busy is a club going to be during the week anyway?”

Hal sighed. “Yeah, alright. Just… Let me get changed, _again_.” As he walked back to his room, he ruffled Jim’s hair. “Booger,” he called him, sticking his tongue out.

“Dipstick!” Jim countered, and Bruce couldn't help laughing. Sometimes, he wondered what it would have been like to have a little brother…

That night, they set up various pranks for Jack, which, if Bruce was being honest, would probably land the two brothers in a boat load of trouble, but they insisted they would be fine. Though, he did wish that he was over more often just to see how the older man would react to having red dye put in his conditioner. Hal ordered them pizza and had it delivered, which they were never able to do at the manor because 1) everyone thought it was haunted and 2) it was too far for a pizza guy to deliver to anyway. 

They watched a couple of cheesy horror movies and, because Jim was terrified afterwards, they put in _The Little Mermaid_ , and everyone relaxed during that. Jim fell asleep against Bruce (who he still hadn’t realized, or at least voiced, that Bruce was the reason his brother was gone so much), and Hal felt like if it had been anyone else, Bruce would’ve freaked out, but as it was, he was fine.

“Hey,” he whispered, earning the Gotham beauty’s attention. “Mind if I borrow your leg?”

Bruce smiled. “I think it’s only fair, considering how much I take yours.”

Hal smiled back at him before leaning and placing a kiss on Bruce’s cheek. In the low light from the ending credits, he saw Bruce’s cheeks flush red.

He fumbled with turning off the TV as Hal laid down, his head resting on Bruce’s leg.

\---

_“Batman!” Robin walked over to behind the Bat Computer’s chair. “We should have GL over for dinner sometime.”_

_The chair swiveled around. “Why would we do that?”_

_“Because… He’s your teammate and really cool?”_

_“Don’t be ridiculous. And even if we could have dinner with him, how would we get him here without revealing our identities? Kidnap him?”_

_“We could just ask him really nicely if we could blindfold him?”_

_He sighed. “It’s just not going to happen, Robin.”_

_The boy balled his fists, but didn’t argue. “You never want to do anything fun anymore!”_

_Batman turned the chair back around._

**Author's Note:**

> I have this headcanon that Bruce's eyes are actually the color of lightning? Idk so maybe that's weird but I refuse to let that idea go haha.   
> Also I kind of think that younger Bruce away from Gotham is pretty meek. He doesn't have anything to prove to anyone (at least, not until he visits the WE offices) so he can be as awkward and asocial as he really is.


End file.
